


The Play's the Thing

by ughfitz (wokemeup)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-10-04 14:06:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17306003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wokemeup/pseuds/ughfitz
Summary: Fitz, the local musician at The Tahitian Theatre, befriends actress Jemma Simmons. Quickly becoming best friends, the two find out that life isn’t always like a play – sometimes you have to step away from the script and write your own story.A FitzSimmons Secret Santa Exchange for bookishandbossy





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookishandbossy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookishandbossy/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, bookishandbossy! Your prompt has been such a fun world to explore and see what shenanigans I could get FS into! Many thanks to @writeonthrough for being such a kind and helpful beta reader <3

The first time he set foot in a theatre, Fitz was six. The room was enormous, so much so that his skinny frame was swallowed amongst the sea of rich, red seats leaving him looking nothing more than a small speck. The glow from the stage lights was blinding, but their warmth and radiance sent a rush of excitement throughout his veins. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

In that moment, looking out into the empty audience, he knew that the stage and all the magnificent stories it held was where he belonged. Lifting his arms slightly and pretending to thank the imaginary audience clapping for him, Fitz jumped when he heard a light laughter from behind him. As he turned around, a sheepish smile on his face as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing, he rushed forward into the outstretched arms of his mother.

The warmth of her arms around him was comforting, like putting on a well-loved jumper on a cold and dreary day. It had been the two of them for some time now, his father (if you could even call him that), had left them penniless and alone only a month after Fitz had been born. Despite this absence, his mum made sure that he grew up in a home filled with love and happiness.

Laughing in delight, Fitz looked up at his mum as she whispered in his ear. “Can you believe it, Leo? We’ve made it. We’ve _finally_ made it.” She looked happier and more content than he had ever seen her. Her own peace and joy was so palpable, he could only nod back at her, his shared excitement and toothy smile (though he was missing a front tooth) prevented any words from forming.

Earlier that same day, his mum had been in such a tizzy. Muttering to herself they were going to be late to her audition, she’d nervously run her hands through her curly locks and whirled around the room collecting items to place in her bag. As they rushed down the busy streets, Fitz pushed his legs to move faster knowing how important this was to his mum.

Whether it was some overly dramatic display at dinnertime to get Fitz to eat a vegetable, or a performance for one of her acting classes, his mum not only loved to act, she was born for it. Though she worked daily at the local diner (Fitz _loved_ the free chips) and enjoyed meeting a variety of interesting patrons who came and went, acting was her real passion. It was because of that passion that his mum and dad had met.

At the time of their meeting, Alistair Fitz had been some bigwig film exec that had traveled to their small town to oversee a big picture that that was in the middle of shooting just blocks from the diner. One late evening after work, he’d strolled into the diner and met Katherine Macdonald, a beautiful young woman who would go on to steal his heart, only for him to break hers. Despite that heartache, however, Katherine had always insisted that although Alistair had done plenty of damage, he wasn’t the worst thing to happen to her. Bitter as she was about his sudden departure and lack of support, he had given her Leo – her precious boy who was brilliant beyond belief and shone brighter than any star in the sky.

Reaching the entrance of the theatre, Fitz’s mum pushed open the door nearly running over the casting director and another bloke who were exiting the empty building. His mum had missed her chance, or so it seemed. After several tense minutes of negotiation, however, Fitz felt himself being tugged into the theatre, the lone crewmember looking up in annoyance as the group of them noisily entered the auditorium. Kissing Fitz on the cheek and fussing over the non-existent wrinkles in her skirt, his mum gave him one last smile before walking up onto the stage.

At the director’s indication, she softly cleared her throat and rotated her shoulders as though she were warming up for some grand fight. Looking past the director, she focused on Fitz as he fidgeted in his seat, excited and nervous for her. Eyes sparkling under the intensity of the single spotlight, Fitz’s mum winked at him, looked back towards the director and began speaking. She nailed the audition. The lines that she and Fitz had practiced over and over the past several weeks flowed out of her and transported Fitz to another world; the words of the script coming to life before his very eyes.

Favorable impressions were not easy to come by in the acting world. Some wowed with their looks, other with their performance. Katherine Macdonald had managed to do both. Impressing not only Fitz but also the other gentlemen in the room as well, she landed the leading role. She was going places. _They_ were going places. For several years after that first leading role, it was just Fitz, his mum, and the theatre. Between bits of schoolwork and odd jobs here and there for Katherine, both she and Fitz lived in the luxury of practicing lines together, getting lost in the different worlds of plays, and meeting loads of interesting people with stories just as unique as the ones they played in.

Fitz never tired of the long nights and early mornings. He loved any chance he had to stand up on a stage, look out into the vast emptiness of promise and pretend he was the world’s greatest actor playing it up for an audience who adored him.

They were the absolute best years of his life. Until they weren’t.

Late one autumn morning after several weeks of sickness, his mum – his best friend, supporter, _family_ – had fallen ill. Whereas previous years Fitz had longed for the brisk days to hurry up so that summer would come and he could spend all of his free time in the theatre, that year he had prayed to any deity that would listen to slow things down and give his mum more time. Life, however, wasn’t like some play. He couldn’t simply skip ahead to the final scene and get to the happy ending. His life was a tragedy, not some cheerful fairytale.

In early December, his mum passed. Like the lights dimming on the stage, the curtains closing, Fitz took one final bow and finished the scene. He was done with acting and anything to do with theatre.

 

\---

 

Absentmindedly, Jemma pulled up the sleeve of her coat that had slipped down her shoulder and groaned internally. Knee bouncing in agitation, she willed the train to speed up. If she didn’t make it to her stop in the next five minutes, she was going to be late. And not just Jemma Simmons late - ten minutes early - but actually, properly late. As the train screeched to a halt and the people around her slowly moseyed their way onto the platform, Jemma finally pushed her way through the throng of travelers and scampered down the sidewalk as quickly as she could.

Thoughts otherwise occupied, she was not nearly focused enough on her surroundings and gasped in surprise and pain as she ran into a body, the sound of music suddenly stopping only vaguely registering in her mind.

“Oi!” the man she had run into called out as Jemma continued down the street, profuse apologies spilling from her lips.

Pushing through the doors to the entrance of her destination, she gave a quick wave to Lance, the building’s security guard and sped down the stone corridors of the old building. Quickly dropping off her bag, she took a brief look in the hallway mirror before running off towards the stage.

“You’re late!” came a booming voice.

“I know, I know! I’m sorry, the subway was running late,” she mumbled, her words drowned out by the echoing rumble of words once again filling the stage and surrounding areas 

“Don’t do it again,” came the loud voice, though it was tinged with a note of understanding. “Alright, now that everyone is here, let’s get into places.”

Pulling out her neatly highlighted script, Jemma cleared her throat, took a deep, clearing breath and prepared for the scene. Looking into the eyes of her castmate, Will Daniels, she attempted to leave behind any traces of Jemma Simmons and focused solely on her character’s budding feelings for Will’s character. Like her ability to whip up the perfect cup of tea or meticulously organize notes, Jemma had always prided herself on the wide-range of emotions and the depth of which she was able to act them out. But in the recent weeks of rehearsals, she had found it harder and harder to portray the deeps bonds in an authentic way.

It wasn’t that her partner was bad, per se. She and Will had a good rhythm between the two of them; he was friendly, made her laugh between scenes, had a low body fat percentage and his face was quite symmetrical. By all accounts, she should have had no trouble falling for him – both in an out of character. But as May called cut for what felt like the fifth time in the last ten minutes, Jemma stretched her neck in an attempt to loosen her stiff muscles.

“Let’s take a break,” May called out, her voice returning to its normal volume as she stepped away from her seat and joined the rest of the cast up on the stage. Jemma knew it was coming, but the embarrassment of May’s kind but firm corrections still made her flush, and, to her horror, tears welled in her eyes. Excusing herself, Jemma walked by Daisy Johnson and Antoine Triplett, Trip, her fellow castmates as they continued their character’s flirtatious banter. Obviously _they_ weren’t having any issues.

Stepping back into the hallway and walking past Lance (the now sleeping guard), Jemma ran outside and promptly ran into the man from her prior run-in.

“For the love of...oh it’s _you_ again!”

Flushing in further embarrassment, she looked up at the man for the first time and stumbled over her words for a moment before beginning, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! My head doesn’t seem to be working properly. Can’t seem to do anything right today.”

Heaving out a big sigh, the man pulled the strap of the guitar over his head and placed it against the wall. In her rush earlier that morning, she failed to register that the background music she heard had come from him. Turning around to face her, he raised his eyebrows and shrugged almost as though he were apologizing, and emphatically said, “Bad day?”

Smiling in response to the casual way he asked such a weighted question, she said “Oh, just...you know.” But Jemma knew, of course, that this man she had managed to bump into not once, but twice in one day, likely did not just _you know_.

Much to her surprise, however, the man with his brilliant blue eyes (how had she never noticed them before?) stared back at her with a look far more intense and knowing than any conversation with a stranger had any right to be.

“Yeah,” he replied absolutely, _knowingly._

Feeling more of a connection to this man she had just met than she’d ever felt with Will, she smiled, stuck out her hand and turned to face him full on.

“I’m Jemma. Jemma Simmons.”

Looking back at her, surprised almost, he smiled and reached out to reciprocate her handshake. “I’m Fitz.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma and Fitz's friendship blossoms and they both find inspiration that helps them to get over their respective creative roadblocks.

The next time Fitz saw Jemma Simmons, she’d managed to avoid running into him. The morning was brisk, too cold for his hands to play any worthy tune. In an attempt to regain the feeling in his fingers and lessen the chill that prickled down his spine, he’d huddled up against the wall and cupped his hands around his mouth, the puffs of warm air only mildly helping.

Hearing her approaching footsteps coming up the sidewalk, he smiled at Jemma when she was close enough. She seemed to be in a far better mood than she had been the other day, her smile wide and genuine – a bright spot in an otherwise dreary morning.

“Hello, Fitz.” 

“Hi, Jemma.” Caught up in each other’s presence, they stayed smiling at one another for just a moment longer. “What are you doing here so early? The theatre doesn’t open for another half an hour.”

Scrunching her eyes in just the slightest hint of confusion, Fitz nodded his head towards the entrance of the building. “Hunter...Lance, I mean. He’s my roommate. He’s been complaining all week about having to be up so bloody early to open the doors for May.”

“Ah,” Jemma replied knowingly. “Yes, well. I try to get here early to prepare. I like to have some time to myself before facing everyone else. Besides,” she grinned as though she was about to confess the world’s biggest secret. “There’s a little coffee shop right over there,” she pointed towards a little shop he had somehow never noticed before. “The owner, Fran, she makes the _best_ tea. Tastes just like home.” She smiled a soft, almost wistful smile.

He understood what she was talking about. Although New York served a decent cup of coffee, he had yet to find any place that had tea that wasn’t either iced or too weak.

“Did you, uh,” she paused, a light blush blooming across her cheeks. “Um, would you like to get a cup...with me?”

Looking at her in surprise, he peered down at his guitar case. Sensing his hesitation, Jemma quickly added, “Fran won’t mind. During runs of shows, I usually have much more on me.”

Figuring he had nothing better to do, Fitz picked up the case and the two of them walked across the street towards the little shop.

It was the best cup of tea he had had in a long time. Though, he thought as Jemma laughed at an abysmal joke of his, perhaps it had more to do with the company than the tea.

\---

The theatre had always been a sense of comfort to Jemma. But her lack of connection with Will had left her with a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. Her daily commutes to The Tahitian Theatre lacked the usual tingle of excitement, the itch to begin exploring a world that was far different from her own no longer there. She’d never experienced the relentless gnawing of anxiety, but it left her feeling constantly exhausted and confused.

Since her small part in her local theatre’s holiday production as a young girl, she had known she wanted to act. Up until now, there had never been any doubts about her career choice. Of course, this career choice had been a big point of contention at the dinner table growing up. Her parents had been aghast at the idea that their daughter, their only child, would limit herself to such frivolous fantasies and a profession (if you could even call it that) that would surely leave her penniless.

_Jemma, you can’t be serious. Drop this little fantasy you have going on in your head. You’ll go get into a good school and you’ll do something useful with your life._

Though she _had_ gotten into one of the best acting schools and had, in her mind, done something useful with her life, she hadn’t spoken much with her parent since moving to New York.

In the end, though, her parent’s approval hadn’t mattered all that much to her. She loved everything about acting. She loved the feel of the warm stage lights beaming down on her, the different colors casting beautiful shapes and designs across her skin and the stage floor. She relished the rush of a quick change, delighted in the different costumes and makeup. And she absolutely _loved_ the wonderful little zing that whizzed its ways throughout her body at witnessing the creativity of fashioning another world with only a few props and a handful of people. Though her blood family might not have approved of her life choices, she’d managed to gather her own family of misfit friends who accepted and loved her.

To Jemma, the theatre was truly a magical place.

So, to dread arriving to rehearsals – to worry so fervently over a character with which she connected on such a deep level – was not only perplexing, but also disheartening. But as she approached the theatre nearly a week after running into Fitz and several days after tea (an occasion that still left her smiling like some giddy schoolgirl), she found herself eager and excited to get to the theatre. As she approached the building, she paused for a moment: Fitz was playing his guitar.

In the many interactions she had had with him since that first fateful meeting, she had yet to hear him play. They’d always managed to wrap themselves up in thrilling conversations that allowed no time for music or much of anything else. As she listened closer to the mellow tunes of the guitar, though nice, it wasn’t what had caused her to stop. It was his voice. 

It was unlike anything she had ever heard before. And as someone who had been to countless auditions, had heard the same old classic hipster-like renditions of _Wonderwall_ over and over, that was saying something.

There were no words that truly described his voice, though earnest, soft and smooth could perhaps touch on some of the aspects. His voice was warm and welcoming, and she never wanted to stop listening to it. Knowing she’d have to move eventually but wanting to relish the moment for just a little longer, she stayed hidden behind the wall and closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the delicious harmony of guitar and voice.

A buzz from her phone brought her out of her daze, and a bit reluctantly, she pushed herself off the wall and finally made herself known to Fitz.

“Is that an original?” Her words broke through his guitar, and he looked up, startled. 

Putting down the instrument, he brought his hand up to brush his fingers through his hair. Jemma noticed that it was a nervous trait of his, one that he usually only used around the other cast members on the occasions they came out to chat or for a quick smoke, but typically not around her.

“Uh...yeah, s’pose.” He shrugged nervously.

“I really like it,” she replied.

“Yeah, well, it’s a work-in-progress. Not quite sure what the next verse is gonna be.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure something out. I believe in you.” She smiled; his self-deprecating eye roll and hint of a smile caused a flutter in her stomach.

At rehearsals that day, Jemma found herself thinking of Fitz when she focused on Will during a run-through of a scene. Her character, Karen, was slowly but deeply falling for Will’s character, Frank. She was supposed to look up into his eyes, shudder out an uneven breath, cradle his face with her hand and lean in for a soft kiss that held the promise of something more. 

During previous attempts at the scene, she’d felt the effort practically radiating off her. Everything about her movements was awkward, her lines came out halting and forced. But today as she looked into Will’s eyes, she could only think of Fitz, the sweet tune of his voice whispering in the back of her head.

“Stop.” Melinda’s voice boomed overhead.

As Jemma reached for her water, Daisy came over to her and smiled that annoyingly knowing smile that only Daisy could give.

“What?” Jemma asked defensively.

“I didn’t say anything,” Daisy replied. But as the other woman walked away towards Trip, Jemma could have sworn she heard Daisy whistling Fitz’s song.

That evening as she bundled her scarf around her and walked outside, she paused, hiding behind the wall of the ramp leading up to the doors. Fitz had a small gathering of listeners surrounding him and enjoying his music. Some of them seemed none too interested in his music, almost as though they were stopping simply by habit. One woman, however, seemed far more interested in Fitz’s appearance rather than his music. Irritated on his behalf, Jemma headed down the ramp and out onto the sidewalk knowing he’d appreciate seeing a supportive face in the crowd.

By the time she reached Fitz, he had finished his song. Several of the crowd members smiled, a few threw a couple of spare bills into his case, and the woman threw in what Jemma could only assume was a scrap piece of paper with her number on it. A flash of jealousy ran through Jemma, but she quickly dismissed the thought when Fitz looked up at her.

The smile he gave her warmed her more than her scarf ever would.

Clearing her throat, she asked him “I see you finished the next verse?”

“Yeah, well...I don’t know. Something finally clicked the other day and I just...it just all came pouring out.” Comfortable silence lingered between them. Taking in a deep breath, Jemma looked up, the marquis lights casting them in a soft glow, and laughed in delight at the small specks of snow that were starting to fall on them.

From across the street, a man slurring his words yelled, “Heyyyy, man! You gonna play anything?”

Rolling his eyes but smiling all the same, Fitz whispered to Jemma, “The people ask, and they shall receive.”

Jemma watched as Fitz’s fingers filtered over the strings of his guitar, the beginning notes of tune she was sure she had heard before but couldn’t quite place floated out into the bitter night air. As Fitz began singing, Jemma chuckled, amused at Fitz’s choice of song.

It was a softer take on a cheesy holiday song that she and Will sung during the play. With the set decorated like a cramped apartment with glittering Christmas lights strung haphazardly around the tiny space, it was an endearing moment in the play. A well-deserved break after the turmoil the two characters faced and one that Daisy insisted was going to have the audiences swooning in their seats.

 

 

At rehearsal the next day, it wasn’t Will getting her through the scene; it was Fitz. The memory of his voice replaced Will’s as they rehearsed the song. 

She nailed the scene.


	3. Chapter Three

Fitz was tuning his guitar early the next morning when Jemma came strolling up the street, two cups of something deliciously warm in each hand, a wide smile on her face.

“I have a proposition,” she said, one eyebrow raised excitedly as she handed him over a cup.

“Go on,” he replied before taking a sip of the tea prepared exactly how he liked it.

Jemma paused, took a deep breath, and stared at him straight on. _Had her eyes always been that startling shade of rich brown? And had those freckles always looked like constellations spackled across the creamy Milky Way of her skin?_

“I was wondering if you’d help me with my lines. Practice them. You...and me. Together, that is.” She spoke quickly and there was a slight quiver to her voice. The confidence he’d seen her exude since the day they’d met was gone. Somehow still she looked adorable, her flustered cheeks with her bottom lip caught between her teeth was a look that made Fitz’s own cheeks flush.

“Um, you do realize that I’m a musician, right? Not an actor.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter. I just need someone to help, and I just, I don’t know, I’m _comfortable_ around you. You…” she trailed off and Fitz waited expectantly for her to finish. “Andyoumakemebetter” she rushed out, her eyes dropping to where her hands were fiddling with a wayward string on her jumper.

It was a strange feeling for Fitz. On the one hand, his immediate reaction to dealing with anything related to acting and the theatre was, ‘No. Absolutely not.’ But on the other hand, it was Jemma. Somehow in only a handful of days, she’d managed to effortlessly nestle her way into his life that he couldn’t quite think of what he had been doing before her.

And really, he reasoned, it wasn’t like he’d actually be acting or anything. Far from it. Just a few lines here and there, and then she’d be off to the stage, and he would stay on the sidewalk playing music like he always had.

Scratching the back of his head with his free hand, he looked up at her with a small smile. “Okay, I’ll help you.”

Shoulders sagging in relief, Jemma surprised him by wrapping her arms around his body, her small frame managing to grip him quite tightly. In her eagerness, she’d accidentally spilt a bit of the now lukewarm tea all over him, but Fitz supposed he was okay with a damp jacket if it meant he’d get to relish the warmth from her hug for just a moment longer.

\---

“I just...I’m having trouble with this bit,” she said, pointing towards one of the highlighted sections of her script. “It just feels wrong every time I do it.” He looked over and smiled at the way her face was scrunched in concentration, the highlighter she was using tapping against her tooth.

Fitz looked down and read the line. He thought for a moment, carefully considering Jemma’s character.

“Well, I think Karen’s a bit like you, in a way. How would you feel? What would _you_ do?” He looked at her, surprised by the smile on Jemma’s face. “What?” he laughed, and she continued smiling. “ _What?!”_ he pressed.

“Nothing, it’s just that you’re good at this. You’re a natural,” she shrugged before playfully bumping her shoulder against his.

“Nah,” he replied. “You’re the natural. Just maybe overthinking things a bit,” he said, eyeing her carefully detailed notes.

“These?!” she said looking down at the booklet. “I _like_ to be prepared. It helps me sort things out.”

“Yeah, well, maybe just trust yourself a little more. You might find that you’re better than you think.”

It was quiet for a moment afterwards, the only noise around them coming from the slight rustling of the wind against the papers. The enjoyable silence lingered for just a moment afterwards until they continued their practicing.

Several days later, Fitz looked up from his guitar as the doors to the theatre burst open. Will Daniels, Jemma’s opposite, stormed down the short steps and walked past Fitz seeming not to notice Fitz at all.

For a moment, Fitz looked after the man confused as to why he had come out so suddenly and so early, but after no one came after him, he figured Will must have just needed a break.

About half an hour later, the doors squeaked open and Jemma came out. She looked tired and frustrated.

After their usual hellos and an unusually lengthy bout of silence from Jemma, Fitz suggested they head over to the Fran’s place for lunch.

Warm from the nice cup of tea and a sandwich so delicious he was sure he’d drooled, Fitz finally managed to get Jemma to say what had so clearly been heavily weighing on her mind.

“Will quit,” she said quietly. That explained that dramatic exit Fitz had witnessed earlier.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Fitz replied, not exactly sure what to say. He’d never really known the man, though Fitz supposed that said far more about Will than it did himself. As the well-known local musician for the theatre (he’d actually managed to strike up a deal with the owner Phil Coulson to secure his coveted space), he’d gotten to know all of the cast and crew that rotated in and out of The Tahitian Theatre quite well. Except for Will.

While Jemma’s closeness and friendliness went above and beyond compared to the others he’d met in his time since securing his spot, all but Will had at least made some sort of attempt to befriend Fitz. Whether it was a simple nod each morning, a couple of bucks thrown into his case here and there, or an invite for drinks at the local bar, they’d all made _some_ sort of acknowledgment. Will, on the other hand, had never so much as waved at Fitz, much less looked him in the eyes. Fitz had always chalked it up to the man preferring to stay to himself, something that Fitz could greatly understand. But perhaps there had been more to it than Fitz himself knew.

Focusing back on Jemma, he noticed her pushing the food on her plate around, clearly distracted. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

Jemma tensed, though if Fitz hadn’t grown accustomed to the little nuances of her reactions -- he supposed all those practices had given him such insight -- he might have missed it. “Hey, what’s the matter?” Tentatively, he reached across the small table and gently grabbed her hand. When she didn’t immediately pull back, Fitz felt comfortable in holding it a bit tighter, hoping to offer her some small amount of comfort.

“Um,” she began, her voice quiet and small-sounding. “He, um...he claimed that I was the, and I quote, ‘Worst actress he’d ever had the displeasure of working with.’ I, just…” she broke off, her voice wobbly with impending tears. “I just...I mean I know that we were having some trouble getting a good rhythm going, but I just figured it was because he had been so used to acting by himself for so long.” At his questioning look, she went on to explain that he’d just come off a play that was largely himself on the stage. A brief moment of silence settled over them as Fitz considered what to say.

“What a prick! What an absolute tosser!” He said as Jemma looked up at him with an incredulous look. “What!?” He went on. “It’s true. Listen, I may just be the bum musician on the streets” at that, Jemma gave him a look so severe, Fitz momentarily lost his train of thought. “Okay. I may just be the musician on the street, but I know for a fact that you are _not_ the worst. Far from it, actually. Jemma, you…” he paused, caught up in his emotions. “Jemma,” he took her hand again and looked her straight on. “You are, without a doubt, one of the best, if not _the_ best actress out there. The way you understand your role, there’s not an audience member in the world that wouldn’t be able to see how perfect you are for this role. It was meant to be. And if Will Daniels can’t see that, well then to hell with him! Forget that hog face!”

Laughing lightly, Jemma stared back at him, her eyes welling with tears, a small smile forming on her face. “Thank you” she finally whispered out, her hand squeezing his. “Thank you,” she said once more, though she was thankful for far more than just his kind words.


	4. Chapter Four

The next several days were a whirl of worry and confusion over figuring out what to do with the now vacant role of one of the lead actors. Although May had prepared for nearly every sort of unforeseen incident possible, she’d never imagined losing one of her actors. Never. 

Jemma could tell that May was displeased. Although Will’s understudy was fine, he was just that: Fine. After wrapping their first day without Will, Jemma was feeling more and more like Will had been right. Although Fitz’s pep talk had been nice and had boosted her in the immediate aftermath of Will’s departure, now facing another dud partner, she was beginning to feel like it had indeed been her fault. 

So, it came as an utter surprise to her when May had abruptly decided that a new Frank was needed and auditions were to take place at the end of the week. 

Although the rest of the cast seemed excited by this prospect, for Jemma, a new actor simply meant another partner for her to muck up, another chance for her to ruin the play. She was distracted running her lines with Fitz, she knew it, but couldn’t help the wayward thoughts from intruding. She was so worried about how things would work out, she’d left Fitz hanging for a good ten seconds before he nudged her knee with his. 

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, his concerned voice waking her from her thoughts and reminding her that she had at least one person who she worked well with.

She blinked. Of course! How had she missed it? Fitz was the Frank to her Karen. He’d run through the lines with her over and over, and not once had she felt awkward, or left reaching for some sort of connection with him. It was already there. From the very beginning, she’d always felt comfortable with him. Each scene and thoughtful suggestion from him had only made her feel closer to him. 

“Fitz,” she said suddenly. Taking his hand in both eagerness and nervousness, she looked him in the eyes and smiled, confident that he’d agree. “May is holding auditions for Will’s role.” A small seed of uncertainty, however, bloomed in her stomach as Fitz didn’t immediately understand her own excitement. 

“What about what’s his name? Uh,” he snapped his fingers, clearly trying to remember the understudy’s name. 

“Milton.” Jemma supplied. “Yeah, he’s not cutting it.” She shrugged. Not wanting to lose her nerve, Jemma forged on. “Fitz, I know the auditions are on Thursday and that doesn’t give you much time to prepare, but honestly, I’d be willing to work with you, and really, you’re already rather brilliant and I don’t think you’d need all that much prep.” 

“Wait!” Fitz replied. “Wait, wait, wait. What are you saying, Jemma?”

“You should audition, of course! You’ve already been practicing with me, and I know how well you are, how well we are together.” Pausing to gather her breath, she looked him in the eyes. “Fitz,” she began quietly. “You are perfect for this role. No other partner of mine has worked so well. I’ve never felt more at ease, more in-character than when I’m running my lines with you. You understand Frank so well, you know all the little nuances to him. You’re perfect for this role, Fitz. Perfect!” 

He stared at her for a moment, his face unreadable. “No.” He said, no trace of doubt in his answer. 

Jemma was stunned, confused as to why he wouldn’t want to audition, and perhaps more than she cared to admit, a bit hurt by his reaction. She knew he was comfortable with performing in front of others, she knew he could memorize the material. It didn’t make sense why he wouldn’t audition. “But why?” she asked, her voice no longer as confident as it had been a few moments before. 

“Just...just no” he replied back firmly and stood up from where he was sitting on the stoop. Jemma watched Fitz, her eyebrows knitted up in concern, as he walked over to pack up his guitar and other belongings. 

“But you’re amazing, Fitz! You’d be brilliant up there! I just don’t…I just don’t understand why you won’t even try. Why are you throwing this amazing opportunity away?” She’d never been upset with him before, but she just couldn’t understand why he was walking away from the opportunity. More than that, the growing seed of doubt that had been weighing down on her since before Will left had her fearing that it wasn’t the role he was walking away from – so vehemently saying no to – but rather her. 

“Just drop it, Jemma. I’m not doing it. Have a good afternoon.” With a loud snap of his guitar case, he swung it over his shoulder, walked down the sidewalk until he was nothing more than one of the millions of other New Yorkers going about their business. 

\---  
Thursday was a disaster. Not that Jemma should have expected anything else. With each continually worse actor that showed up for the audition, the energy in the room only seemed to dampen. Some were too pushy, some too shy. Although Fitz had given her his answer, Jemma still held out hope that Fitz would arrive. But as May said thank you to the last actor of the day, Jemma’s hope and heart shriveled with despair. Fitz wasn’t coming anytime soon, and the play’s situation was looking more and more dire. 

Walking out of the theatre and breathing in the fresh air, she was surprised to see that Fitz wasn’t even outside. She’d assumed, hoped, that the reason Fitz hadn’t been outside earlier that morning was because he was practicing at home. But now looking at his empty spot, a spot that somehow looked off without his presence, she worried that something was wrong with him. 

“He’s not coming,” a voice called out from behind her. Jumping at the noise, Jemma turned around to find Hunter walking down the stairs towards her. 

“Who’s not coming?” Jemma asked innocently. Hunter simply raised his eyebrows at her. Sighing, she asked again. “Where is he?” 

Hunter shrugged. “At home, suppose. You know…” he began but cutoff as he drew another drag of his cigarette, tapping the butt against the corner of the wall he was leaning against. “You know his mum was Katherine Macdonald.” Jemma turned to look at Hunter, surprise and confusion etched across her face. 

“Really?” she asked. Katherine Macdonald was a bit of a legend around town. When Jemma was little, she had aspired to be like the actress. A fellow foreigner making her mark across the pond was not only admirable, but the fact that she’d also done so by only taking on roles she loved had resonated strongly with Jemma. She’d once read that Katherine would only take roles she felt a connection to, that she could be certain she’d be able to justly perform. 

Although Jemma hadn’t necessarily had the luxury to take on these type of roles, she’d always pushed herself to stay as authentic and connected to the characters. It was one of the reasons she was feeling so down about her current predicament. 

“But I don’t understand how that has anything to do with…” she trailed off as she suddenly remembered the rest of Katherine Macdonald’s story. Of course, Jemma chastised herself. Katherine had passed far too early, leaving behind a young son, a young Fitz. 

Gasping and finding herself suddenly overwhelmed with sadness, Jemma excused herself and walked down the sidewalk in a bit of a haze. She’d been so stupid to assume that Fitz want to audition, not after what he’d gone through when he was younger. 

Pulling out her cell, Jemma opened up the thread of messages she’d previously exchanged with Fitz and type out a simple text:

I’m sorry. 

Feeling immense guilt, she went home and showered to rid herself of the day’s events before finally crawling into bed, her head pounding from a headache. Allowing herself a moment of indulgence, Jemma turned on her phone and searched for Katherine Macdonald and found an article detailing her tragic passing. At the bottom of the article, she found a picture of a young Fitz. Jemma’s guilt magnified as she looked at his little face – so similar to the one she’d recently grown so accustomed to, so enthralled by, yet filled with a sadness she hadn’t quite recognized. 

Sighing, she clicked off her phone and closed her eyes, her dreams filled with thoughts of Fitz and his hauntingly blue eyes and golden brown curls. 

\---

On Friday morning, Jemma prepared herself for another onslaught of terrible performances. She was surprised, however, as the door nudged open and Fitz walked in. 

Although they all knew him by name, he still insisted on handling the entire process like a professional. 

Jemma watched as Fitz walked to the center of the stage, the bright lights shining down on him. Clearing his throat, he looked out into the audience, his eyes locking with her. With a steady voice, he began his lines, his eyes only leaving hers when necessary. 

As his finished out the last of the words, the room remained silent, though unlike the previous auditions which had left the room reeling with dissatisfaction, there was a definite buzz of excitement thrumming throughout. 

True to the character but bringing that touch of something that only he could add, Fitz easily landed the role.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think it would take me this long to finish posting this dang thing, but all that matters is that it's finally here (and before season six is back on!!) Thanks for coming along on the journey, hope you enjoyed!

As the rest of the cast filtered out of the auditorium, Jemma got up and slowly approached Fitz. Although their rehearsal had gone better than any of the other rehearsals she had had with the other Franks, their lack of communication since their fight (if you could even call it that) had led to stiff performance.

Reluctant to upset him and still feeling guilty, Jemma was hesitant to talk with Fitz but knew the conversation was inevitable.

“Hi, Fitz,” she began. Fiddling with the straps of her knapsack, she looked up at him, grateful that she saw a small hint of a smile on his face.

“Hi, Jemma.”

“Look…” she began, but didn’t quite know where she had been planning on going. Straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin, she began again. “I just wanted to apologize again. I don’t know if you got my text the other day, but I just wanted you to know that I am truly sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard on the audition, shouldn’t have said what I said about you not even trying. I think I was just so excited about us potentially working together, I just pushed everything on you.”

Afraid that he wouldn’t quite understand her sincerity, she was surprised when she felt Fitz take her hand.

“Hey. You, uh...you have nothing to be sorry for.” Briefly closing his eyes and taking in a quiet breath, he looked back at her. “I take it you found out about my mum?” Jemma nodded back in reply. “Hunter?” He asked again. Jemma smiled, laughing at the look of fond annoyance on Fitz’s face. “Always the gossip, that one. But that’s okay, he means well.” It was true. Hunter did love to talk, but he also knew who to trust and when to shut up.

“You know, I vowed that I would never step foot in another theater after my mum passed. I guess I was just so afraid of feeling that pain of losing her all over again, that I just shut that part of my life out. So when you asked me to audition, I panicked. Didn’t know what to do, just bolted. But then I found an old letter of hers and remembered how much she loved to act, how much _I_ loved to act. She wrote about how she didn’t…” he trailed off, his voice wobbling with emotion. “She wrote about how she didn’t want me to hide away from things because I was afraid. She told me to got after things, to not be afraid to live. She always used to say, ‘Life isn't a play. You are the playwright of your own life, you get to decide your character’s journey.’”

Smiling, Jemma felt the sudden urge to wrap her arms around Fitz. She settled with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “She sounds amazing, Fitz. Absolutely amazing.”

“She was,” he agreed. “And she was right. I wasn’t really living my life, just sort of getting by. But when I got up on that stage the other day, I felt so alive. It felt so right to be up there, and with you by my side…” he trailed off. “With you as my partner, I know it’s where I am meant to be.”

Ignoring the disappointment at the word partner, it was what she was, after all, Jemma decided to ignore her earlier hesitations and stepped forward to wrap her arms around Fitz. There was no hesitation in his reciprocating of the hug.

She felt warm and safe and completely content in his arms.

\---

Opening nights had always been her favorite. The nervous buzz of the cast, the excitement of sharing something new, the fresh costumes, the makeup...it had always sets her in such a good mood. And though she was excited about the opening show later that evening, she had been surprised at how nervous she was.

A little bit of nerves was always good, she figured, but the small shake to her hands and the little wobble to her voice that wouldn't quite go away in warm-up was starting to alarm her.

Trying to push the nerves aside, Jemma walked out of her dressing room and met up with Fitz to walk the rest of the distance to the stage.

Their last rehearsals had been wonderful. She’d never had such an effortless connection to one of her partners, had never felt so wrapped up in the characters. Each run through she felt more and more comfortable not only with herself, but with Fitz as well.

Their ebb and flow off of each other was magical, she had been having so much fun, she couldn’t wait to share it with the audience.

But as much as she loved how well things had progressed during rehearsals, she was also terrified at her heart’s sudden refusal to beat at a normal pace whenever Fitz showed up. She was alarmed by the way her lips tingled after Frank and Karen kissed, annoyed with herself when she couldn’t just go home and forget about the way she had never felt more alive then when she was with Fitz.

But Fitz was her partner, her friend, and nothing more.

On opening night, her stomach twisted in knots as she heard the hush of silence fall over the audience, as the curtains parted and the bright lights shined down on them.

Screw it. This wasn’t just her getting wrapped up in her character, this wasn’t Karen falling for Frank. She was completely in love with Fitz and she couldn’t wait to tell him.

\---

Riding the high of the performance, Jemma sat in her dressing room carefully wiping off the thick stage makeup. Although she was still certain of her feelings for Fitz, she was afraid that he wouldn’t reciprocate them. They hadn’t known each other all that long, and what if the looks she _thought_ were hints of feelings for her were just a stellar performance. He was great at what he did, after all. Besides, you weren’t supposed to fall in love with your costar.

Lost in her thoughts as she swiped the wet wipe across her cheek to dispose of her stage makeup and jumped when a quiet knock broke the silence in the small room.

“Come in,” she answered.

“Just me,” Fitz said as he carefully stepped over the threshold.

Looking up at Fitz and smiling at him, she reached across the vanity and plucked up the card she’d written for him. “You were amazing tonight, Fitz. Amazing.”

“You too,” he replied as he handed her a single flower.

Staring at one another in silence, Jemma considered how to approach telling Fitz about her feelings. Always prepared for anything, she found herself woefully unprepared for this particular moment. Lucky for her, she didn’t have to wait much longer.

“Dinner?” Fitz blurted out.

 _Oh_ , Jemma thought to herself, disappointed that she wouldn’t get to talk to Fitz alone for quite some time. It was customary for the cast to get dinner after the first performance. May liked to invite everyone out (even Hunter) and welcome the start of an excellent round of performances.

“Yes, I believe we are all still going out tonight. Will you be joining us?”

“Yeah, no,” he replied but then quickly added, “I mean yes. Me and you, though,” he said pointing between the two of them. “Maybe we could eat somewhere else, you know, somewhere nice.” Shocked at his question, Jemma didn’t immediately answer. “I mean, you don’t have to, maybe I just misread the um...you know, just forg---” 

“Yes!” Jemma blurted out. “Yes, I would, I would love that.”

“Really?” Fitz asked, genuinely surprised at her answer. “You’re not just saying that because you feel obliged to say yes to the new guy, right?”

Not wanting him to have any more doubts, Jemma stood up and walked purposefully towards him. Looking up at him, she tilted her head and slotted her lips against his. They were warm and incredibly soft. Though it took him a moment to get over his initial shock, once he did, he responded with enthusiasm.

This kiss was different than their shared stage kisses. It was real, it was wonderful, and it was completely them. Fitz wasn’t just some character lifted from the pages of a script. He was her costar, her partner with whom she was in love with -- completely and deeply.

Pulling back slightly, Fitz still had his eyes closed when he muttered out a soft ‘Love you.’ Smiling wide, Jemma reached up to kiss him once more, their love for one another palpable.

Jemma had always loved the theater and all that came with it. Though falling for her costar had never crossed her mind, she thought about how she had one more item to add to her long list of reasons to love the theater.

As their show played out night after night and their routine became more and more familiar, Jemma couldn’t help but bask in the greatness of her own story, her own life play.

One day Frank and Karen’s story would come to an end, the curtain would close and she and Fitz would bid a final adieu to the characters. And though it would be sad to see that scene of her life close, she would be okay with it.

After all, she and Fitz had already taken the final bow for this show. It was time for them to play out their life in real-time, no script needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! 
> 
> I'm also over on [Tumblr](http://ughfitz.tumblr.com), feel free to come and chat!


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